


qoH wej vuv peD (The Snow Does Not Respect a Fool)

by cosmic_llin



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Crash Landing, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Pre-Slash, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:52:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/pseuds/cosmic_llin
Summary: Worf is a doofus. Data is warm.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SweetPollyOliver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetPollyOliver/gifts).



Like so many supposedly simple missions, this one had gone wrong.

At first it had seemed to be going so well, too. Worf liked going on missions with Data. He didn’t make unnecessary small talk - he knew that Worf didn’t like it - but when he did talk, it was always substantive and interesting. They had spent the shuttle journey in a mix of companionable silence and deep, thoughtful conversation.

He’d anticipated a similar return voyage, after their stop at the planet to retrieve the probe, but a storm had put paid to that plan, and now they were sheltering from the snow in a cave that hardly deserved the name, with the downed shuttle leaking plasma across the valley. And Worf was cold.

He hadn’t realised that he’d growled under his breath, but Data’s head picked up, and he turned from where he was observing the weather at the cave’s mouth to look at Worf.

‘Are you all right, Lieutenant?’ he asked.

‘I am fine,’ said Worf. ‘I merely… dislike waiting to be rescued.’

Data nodded. ‘I understand. You are frustrated that you do not have control over the situation.’

Worf growled again, and Data crawled further into the cave to join him.

‘The distress beacon should attract the Enterprise’s attention shortly, and I am sure that once it does, they will rescue us with all possible speed.’

‘It would be better if we had at least retrieved the probe,’ Worf said. ‘We must have landed close to it.’

‘Perhaps the Enterprise will be able to find it,’ Data said. ‘The probability of our safely locating it in this storm is slight.’

Worf grunted.

* * *

It had been very un-Starfleet of Worf to give Data the slip, but he’d wanted to find that probe, dammit.

At least he hadn’t actually disobeyed orders. But only because Data had assumed he wouldn’t be stupid enough to go out in a snowstorm by himself just to find a probe that wasn’t even that vital.

And he wasn’t, not really. He’d just wanted to go a few paces and see if his tricorder could detect it. He hadn’t even intended to go out of sight of the mouth of the cave. But a few paces had turned into a few more, and now here he was, surrounded by a white haze, and his footprints had filled up so quickly that he couldn’t find his way back by them.

The Klingon body wasn’t built for the cold. He was shivering all over, and the longer he stood there, the harder it was to think clearly.

This was  _ not _ an honourable way to die.

He couldn’t have gone that far, surely? Was Data looking for him? With his superior android sense of direction, would he be able to find Worf and bring him safely back to the cave?

Worf weighed his options. There was dying in a snowstorm, probably only metres away from shelter. Or there was calling for help.

Dying in a snowstorm. Calling for help.

He deliberated for a minute, while his teeth chattered and snow pelted his face.

Finally he made his decision.

‘Commander?’ he called, trying not to sound too desperate. ‘Commander Data?’

He called out twice more. He wasn’t sure whether it had been a long time or whether it just seemed that way. But when Data appeared, a warm golden figure through the snow, his sigh of relief made his lungs hurt.

Data tried to carry him back to the cave. Worf refused. He wasn’t  _ that _ far gone. Although Data did have to support a lot of his weight as they stumbled back together. It took a few minutes - perhaps he’d gone further than he’d thought. But at last they ducked out of the swirling cold and back into the cramped little cave. Worf crawled away from the entrance, still shivering.

He had to stop. Warriors didn’t shiver.

‘Lieutenant… do you require medical care?’ Data asked.

Worf shook his head. ‘No sir. I’ll be fine.’

‘You are cold and wet,’ Data observed. ‘And you seem uncomfortable. As your superior officer, it is my duty to ensure you are in good health.’

And then Data was stripping off his jacket.

‘Remove your outer layers of clothing,’ he said. ‘They are too wet to provide adequate warmth.’

Worf took off his own jacket. Maybe it was the confusion from the cold, but he couldn’t stop staring at Data’s arms. They were just  _ arms _ . It wasn’t even as if he’d worked to get those toned muscles, he’d presumably been designed with them. But Worf kept looking anyway.

Data handed Worf his own somewhat drier jacket, and he draped it around his shoulders. His teeth were still rattling. Sitting up was too much effort. He lay on his side, curled up, trying to regain some warmth.

‘You require additional help to return to a body temperature within the normal range,’ Data observed. ‘If you will allow me, I can assist.’

‘How?’ Worf asked.

‘I am designed to act as a temporary heating unit in an emergency,’ said Data. ‘May I?’

Warriors had shared body heat sometimes, in the ancient sagas. During the Battle of Kataj, which had gone on for seven days and seven nights in midwinter, Kahless himself had slept close to his men, all of them keeping each other warm. Warriors helped their fellow warriors to maintain their fighting form, even in adverse conditions.

‘All right,’ said Worf.

Data lay down beside him and curled his body around Worf’s. Those arms, bare and muscular, wrapped themselves around him and held him firmly. Wherever Data touched him, warmth began to spread.

Slowly, the shivering subsided. His lungs no longer hurt when he breathed. His head didn’t feel so foggy. He could still hear the storm raging outside, but it no longer touched him.

‘Have you ever heard the story of the Battle of Kataj?’ Worf asked.

‘I have not,’ said Data.

‘I will tell it,’ said Worf. ‘It was midwinter, in the mountains of Salak…’

He told the story - as much of it as he remembered. Data only interrupted to ask the occasional question. It was almost like their conversations back in the shuttle, except that Data’s body was pressed against his, his chest a solid weight against Worf’s back, his chin tucked against Worf’s shoulder.

When the story was finished, Data told a story of his own, but Worf couldn’t have said what it was. Surrounded by warmth, with Data’s calm, measured voice in his ear, he fell asleep, and didn’t wake until the Enterprise returned to collect them.


End file.
